


Through the Gates of Pandaemonium

by kuwdora



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: John Milton - Freeform, M/M, PWP, Paradise Lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwdora/pseuds/kuwdora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar’s erection had long been spent, so really, maybe it meant that he cared enough to be there <i>with</i> him after being <i>in</i> him for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Gates of Pandaemonium

**Author's Note:**

> Written eons ago for [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/)**comment_fic** Sylar/Mohinder prompt: Abyssus abyssum invocat (Hell invokes Hell).

The mind is its own place, and in itself  
Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.  
1:254-255, _Paradise Lost_

 

Mohinder was suffused with hope by the way that Sylar held him in his arms, kissing his neck and jaw with wild abandon. Sylar’s erection had long been spent, so if such a grotesque, selfish person, a _monster_ , could have the ability to feel lust, have enough heart to take his time and make Mohinder vibrate with such arousal, maybe there was some good beneath the greedy, demigod surface.

The teasing, adoring sounds Sylar whispered into his ear almost made him shudder with his release. He sat up quickly, pushed Sylar away and rolled him onto his back. The bed and their asses were still messy from bottle of lube that Sylar dropped and spilled into the sheets and blankets which they’d promptly ignored at the time. Now Mohinder felt around until he was able find the bottle, applying it liberally and until the bottle slipped from his hands, taken under the coiled blankets once more. Sylar chuckled and shimmied along the messy sheets, an encouraging sign if Mohinder ever saw one.

Legs were spread and insistent hands pulled Mohinder down until he pressed himself to Sylar’s opening. He slowly pushed in but he stopped after only a few seconds. Fear wasn’t the thing keeping Mohinder from inserting himself further; it was the heat, the pressure and the delighted grin making its way across Sylar’s face that Mohinder gawked at until Sylar groaned in a wanton fashion that surprised the hell out him.

“Come on,” he said and Mohinder couldn’t believe Sylar’s breathlessness. He ran his hands over Sylar’s thighs and hips and pressed onward with a thrust, experimenting with pace and position of his his hands, trying to find the right balance, wondering how far he could go, wondering where the line that divided pain and pleasure lay hidden in Sylar. He jerked his hips in quick succession and when Sylar craned his neck,instead of closed eyes, Mohinder had an eyeful of the tendons in his neck which strained when Sylar half-laughed, half-groaned at the way Mohinder’s thrusts tapered off to miniscule gyrations. He was going to be coming sooner rather than later, much to his dismay, because he wanted to prolong the sight before of Sylar clenched around him, hands fisting the sides of his pillow, head pressed to the headboard for as long as possible.

Mohinder had felt this kind of rush before during sex, during epiphanies he had in the lab, or in personal victories, but this was more… overwhelming; Sylar splayed beneath him, enjoying the ride like it was the best roller coaster, looking as blissed as when he had someone in similar straits, submissive and ripe to pluck the ability from their skulls. But Sylar reminded him he _wasn’t_ helpless and meek because his legs abruptly locked behind Mohinder and held him tight as if he was ordering him to stop and let him catch up. Mohinder laughed at the drawn-out sigh that escaped Sylar when he tightened his fingers around Sylar’s cock, giving him a test stroke, seeing if he was at the point where he could become hard again.

Sylar writhed beneath him and the sense of urgency, of power, rippled through Mohinder’s body. Nothing else mattered other than getting there, to that spot where the orgasm lay hidden and ready to be exploited for the pleasures it would give him and he was all too keen to explore and discover now that he had a taste, the pleasure roiling in the pit his stomach. He bucked free of Sylar’s grip and began to pound in earnest, unrepentant and Sylar tried tilting his hips up, working with Mohinder to help him get there. It didn’t take much longer for Mohinder to reach his pea because Sylar lifted his hips enough for Mohinder to slam a few more times, finally finding the sweet spot that made Sylar bark out a laugh and groan louder than Mohinder who stumbled into his climax with the string of incoherent expletives that Sylar uttered ringing in his ears.

Sylar murmured something he couldn’t quite hear when Mohinder’s finally ceased. Once he was sure he was completely spent, he pulled out and wavered for a moment, breathing heavily, letting himself feel the twinge of pain in his back, feel the sweat glide down the backs of his arms and legs, feeling entirely spent yet completely exhilarated by how his body continued to hum.

Sylar’s legs were still open and Mohinder could see how raw Sylar was, he could see exactly where the semen was leaking down the crack and would have left a puddle if the sheets hadn’t been already soiled. Under any normal circumstances, Mohinder was sure he wouldn’t be this mesmerized by the sight but right now it was more enticing than anything he’d seen before. He almost wanted to lean down and lap up the mess and start all over again but he resisted the temptation. For now. He satisfied his need by dipping his fingers in the mess and swirling the stickiness on the inside of Sylar’s thigh.

Sylar ran his hand along his softened cock and brushed it aside, the attention which drew Mohinder’s eyes upward to Sylar’s face. He was still flushed, jaw still unlatched to let him suck in what air he could, eyelids drooping low. Sylar sat up onto his elbows and Mohinder swallowed, hands resting on Sylar’s parted knees.

He reached for Sylar’s hand and then crawled alongside him, ignoring the moisture on his knees. Part of him wanted to roll over and fall asleep, but the the other part was surprised by Sylar’s welcoming arms that drew him close and for the first time he wondered what would be wrong in curling up beside him. Mohinder pressed his face to Sylar’s shoulder and Sylar rolled onto his side and slung his arm across Mohinder’s chest, fingers gently squeezing his elbow. Mohinder rolled onto his side. He thumbed Sylar’s bottom lip and cupped the side of his face as he leaned in for a small kiss that Sylar reciprocated with the surprising amount of tenderness that was likely to fire Mohinder up again. Perhaps Sylar wasn’t a monster _per se_. Or maybe he was. Maybe it didn’t matter. Sylar was determined individual who wanted more of what he needed—the power, the abilities and skills that would make him feel… whole. Alive. Mohinder could sympathize in more ways than one, especially now that he had his own strength and vitality as his underlying power.

Sylar broke from Mohinder’s insistent kisses Mohinder raised his hand and traced Sylar’s nose up to an eyebrow and Sylar closed his eyes, leaning into his touch which made Mohinder swell with something he didn’t want to acknowledge. He teased at the corner of Sylar’s eye until his hand dropped to Sylar’s chin, rubbing the grain until Sylar sleepily opened up his eyes. Mohinder smiled and Sylar slowly mirrored him.

“I think now I understand why you do some of the things you do,” Mohinder said, pleased, and his fingers grazed the scruff beneath the chin until Sylar’s face broke into an arrogant smile that struck a cord familiarity and yet had an unusual edge Mohinder wasn't accustomed to seeing so up close and personal. But it was something he intended on seeing more often.


End file.
